"I dropped something."

"A sledgehammer?"

Lyssa laughed.

"Did you just giggle?" Her mother's head came up, and her eyes narrowed. She whistled low. "Look at you! Whoever your guy is, he didn't waste any time getting to the honeymoon stage of the visit, eh?"

"Mom!" Shaking her head, Lyssa went to the kitchen for coffee, and found a covered plate of Ritz crackers with peanut butter and raisins on top.

"What is that?" her mother asked, her wide eyes an odd contrast to her cosmopolitan appearance. Dressed in a soft gauze multicolored skirt and azure blue tank, Cathy looked fabulous, as always. She moved her hands while talking, making the thin gold bracelets on her wrists tinkle merrily.

"It's breakfast."

"Are you babysitting Justin again?"

"Nope. This is my breakfast." Lyssa picked up a cracker and took a bite. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Made by loving hands, it carried a heated reminder of their late night snack.

"Ugh." Her mother wrinkled her nose. "So where is he?"

"Where's who?" Lyssa poured a quick cup of coffee, added cream and sweetener, and washed down the sticky peanut butter.

"Don't be dense. I want to meet him. I haven't seen you look so good in years."

Smiling, Lyssa picked up another cracker and walked around the counter to take her favorite stool at the bar.

Her mother followed, a frown marring the space between her brows. "Is he a professor?" She moved to the dining table and looked over the books there. "Or a student?"

"Something like that."

"Why the mystery? I don't like it."

For a moment Lyssa tensed, wondering how she would explain the jeweled book. Relief filled her to see that it was hidden beneath a stack of papers. "You're just nosy."

"Stonehenge, huh? I've always wanted to go there."

"Not me." Not if it meant Aidan would go home. There was so much she wanted to learn about him, so many things she wanted to show him and share with him. He said he knew everything about her because in the Twilight he could see into her mind. She wanted the time to know him just as well.

"Did he go to the store or something?" Cathy asked, looking around. "Maybe he saw your idea of breakfast and decided to get some real food. Really, Lyssa. You can't feed a man a meal like that."

"He's sleeping upstairs."

"Oooh."

Lyssa immediately regretted telling her mother. Cathy was hurrying up the stairs before Lyssa could protest. All she could do was follow and hiss, "This is bad even for you, Mom!"

"Just a peek. I promise I won't wake him up." Her mom paused in the bedroom doorway and froze. She said nothing for a long moment, and then, "Jesus. Is he real?"

"No. He's a blow-up doll. Top of the line."

Her mother glanced over her shoulder with a glare. "Smart ass." She turned her gaze back to the bed. "Where did you find him, and are there any more like him?"

"He found me, remember?" And thank god he had.

Lyssa lifted to her tiptoes so she could see him, too. Aidan Cross sleeping on her bed was the most erotic sight ever.

The two of them were silent, both of them arrested by the glorious specimen of masculinity stretched out in vulnerable slumber. The only sound in the room was breathing, the soft in and out of air in lungs. Her mother took one step into the room…

… and JB's sudden protective growl scared the shit out of both of them. Cathy jumped and screamed, which frightened Lyssa enough to leap back and screech.

Aidan didn't even twitch.

Lyssa knew her mother could wake the dead with that scream, and her own screech wasn't too shabby in the corpse-raising department, either. Her heart, already racing from recent events, kicked up a notch. Something was very wrong. "Mom, you'll have to leave now."

"Why?"

"Hot guy. In my bed. You figure it out." A hot guy who wasn't moving or reacting to external stimuli.

"I don't know how the hell you plan to wake him up if two screaming women didn't do it. Poor guy. You wore him out." Cathy moved toward the stairs, her hand still pressed to her chest. "That animal is possessed, Lyssa. You'll never catch a man with that beast around."

"Don't worry about that now." Lyssa hurried her mother down to the first floor and then hugged her with more than usual fervor in the entryway, breathing in the familiar scent of Coco by Chanel. In case she wouldn't get the chance again, she said, "I love you, Ma. A lot."

"I know, baby." Cathy's hand stroked over her head and down her back, bringing tears to her eyes. "Will I get to see your McDreamy awake sometime?"

Lyssa set her shoulders back. "I'll do everything I can to make that happen. I promise you that."

"Connor, damn it. Where the fuck are you?"

Just as a Dreamer would be, Aidan was fully cognizant of his surroundings. However, unlike a Dreamer, his stream was degraded, creating a murky glass effect. Connor spent precious moments trying to figure out if he could reach his best friend from the control panel or if he would have to leave. In the end, he quickly erased all the vids of the last several minutes in the Temple, then met Philip outside.

"Cross has returned to the Twilight in the dream state."

Philip frowned, then nodded. "Go to him. I'll take over in the control room and see what I can dig up."

"No way. It's too dangerous. You won't have a second to watch your back."

"Fuck it," Philip dismissed with a snort. "We went to all this trouble. I'm not wasting our efforts. The chances of us getting this opportunity again are slim to none, and you know it."

"So we find another way. An engagement like this can't be done with only one man."

"You're wasting time. And your breath."

Connor growled low and then cursed. He had no choice, he had to go to Aidan, and he knew that once he left, Philip would do whatever the hell he wanted. "You get caught and I'll have your ass."

"Deal. Now go."

Rounding the building, Connor reached the grassy plateau behind the Temple and leaped, gliding swiftly past

Aidan's home to the high mountain, then beyond it. Before him spread the Valley of Dreams, wide golden beams rising from the valley floor and piercing the misty sky until they could no longer be seen. The varying streams of unconscious thoughts spread as far as the eye could see. Writhing shadows and wisps of black smoke betrayed the Nightmares who infiltrated the valley despite their best efforts. This battleground was not the hell that the Gateway was, but the stakes were just as high.

He skimmed the edge, traveling as fast as possible, reaching the valley border farthest from the Temple and then dipping over the rise. There, in the ignored stretch of rocky outcroppings, was the flickering beam of pale blue light that represented Aidan's stream of unconsciousness.

Connor had been here before, just by an odd bit of chance. It had been a fluke that the barely discernible light had caught the face of a polished rock at the highest point, which had then caught his eye. He'd noted the anomaly as he exited a mission, and his subsequent investigation had led to them meeting briefly just enough time to know that Aidan had survived the trip to the mortal plane and to see the barest imprint of the Elders' control room.

Stepping into the cool beam, Connor entered Aidan's dream. His best friend pictured them on the porch of his home, a comfortable place for both of them.

"You have the worst timing, Cross."

Aidan rubbed the back of his neck as Connor approached. "As bad as my suspicions were, the reality is worse."

It was the creaking of the porch step that drew their attention to the Elder who joined them. The deep shadows created by the large hood hid the identity of their visitor, but the way Aidan stiffened set Connor on alert. Not in time, though.

Before he could guess the coming events, the cowl fell back and Nightmares poured from the depths of the robe.

* * *

Chapter 15

Connor felt Aidan withdraw his glaive from the scabbard on his back. Yanking his knife free of the sheath strapped to his thigh, he lunged into battle.

Pure fury boiled up inside him, causing his muscles to bulge with the need to tear his enemy apart. He felt it, embraced it, then opened his throat and roared at the Nightmares that swarmed around them.

The sound swelled and then rippled outward. Filled with fury and frustration, his yell was fearsome, and the Nightmares writhed away from it, some of them frightened enough to dissipate into puffs of foul-smelling ash. They screamed their children's cries, which incited Aidan into a frenzy of such magnitude, Connor paused in mid-swing to watch in admiration. There was a reason Aidan Cross was the best of the Elite—he was a badass motherfucker when it came to wielding a glaive.

The Nightmares recoiled, swirling insidiously around them. Pumped up with aggression, Connor leaped toward the shadowy forms with his blade leading the way. Aidan was with him, fighting with vigor such as Connor had not seen from him in many years.

With his focus divided between Aidan and the Nightmares, Connor failed to notice that they were no longer alone with their enemy until it was too late. Before he understood what was happening, hundreds of Elders rushed up behind them, glaives flashing. Soon the entire grassy expanse was hidden by a sea of gray-robed figures and the Nightmares they fought. They spread outward like a growing stain, surrounding the porch and sides of the house.

Connor couldn't figure out what the hell was going on, but at the moment he didn't care. The only thing that concerned him was the Nightmares, and killing every single one of them. With the help of the Elders, that goal was achievable.

There is a moment in every battle when the winds of fate change direction. Warriors of every kind know it instinctively. It comes to them in a rush of adrenaline, a surge of power, a howl of victory.

It was when that moment of triumph arrived that the Elders made their move. Moving as one, they surged up the stairs, overwhelming Aidan in a flood of grasping arms and dragging him away. The captain fought like a man possessed, but he was unable to overcome the sheer number of assailants. Connor roared his frustration and fear for his friend. But he was unable to do anything, trapped as he was by his fight with the remaining Nightmares. He couldn't turn away; he couldn't help.